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Chapter 11

Charlotte looked out the car window at the Georgian architecture with its gracious neoclassical proportions and symmetry, as they drove into Edinburgh. New Town, Edinburgh, also known as the Athens of the North, sat in the shadow of Edinburgh castle, built on the volcanic remnants that made up the city's hills and hollows. New Town, as opposed to Old Town, was a result of the Scottish Enlightenment, designed around a symmetrical, geometric plan, in contrast to its medieval counterpart with its narrow-cobbled streets and irregular wynds.

Sin navigated the busy streets. They hadn't spoken since the police station. She was too busy second guessing her decision to stay silent. She could be in the custody of the American Embassy right now, or better yet, on a plane back home. Her father would come around eventually. He had before.

"Why did the chief superintendent let you go?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Alex and our client have connections. I'm sure he called in a favor," he said. "Trust me, Alex will make sure I pay for it."

"Who do you think called the consulate?"

"Sokolov." He pulled up in front of a large brick house, parking.

"How does that benefit him?"

"It gives him an idea how deep my connections run, I suppose. Insight into the organization."

"And the women." Her voice sounded empty and numb.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." His knuckle brushed her leg. "I know they had you in the other room watching. They were trying to break you."

"I'm not easily broken."

"No, you're not," he said.

"You'd seen them before." Their eyes locked. 'I'll slit your throat.'

"Yes, I'd seen the pictures before. It's one of the many things The Watch is working on." He looked at her. "I have something I need to do. I don't want to leave you alone."

"Don't want to, or can't? Surely, I proved myself today."

"You did. This is not about trust. I don't want to leave you alone because I don't know if Sokolov has men watching us." He got out and came around, opening her door. He took her hand as they walked up a narrow path to the front of the house. Sin rang the bell.

A pleasant looking man in his mid-sixties answered.

"Bobby," Sin said. "How is she?"

The man held the door open, letting them in. "It's been a tough day. She's in a lot of pain. I'm not sure she's up for visitors." He looked Charlotte up and down.

She couldn't feel more uncomfortable. "I can wait in the car."

"You're fine," Sin said. "We won't be long." He kept hold of her hand as they followed the gentleman past the foyer and down a short hall. Bobby opened the door to a sitting room and went in. She could see a woman with a terrycloth turban wrapped around her head lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to various machines. "I'll wait here," she said, pulling out of Sin's grasp. He gave her a nod before he went in to see the woman, sitting on the edge of the bed. The older man stood off to the side. "You have a guest, Margie," he said gently in her ear.

Her eyes opened. "Is that you, Sinclair?" the woman asked with a frail voice.

"Aye, Mum." He took her hand, holding it to his cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"Where have you been?"

"I was away for work. I went to the cottage," he said.

Charlotte watched, confused. There was an intimacy and tenderness to the scene which was incongruent with what she knew of this man. It made her feel off balance, like a lion playing with a lamb.

"Did you see Jock?"

"Aye, I did." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a package, unwrapping it from its brown paper. "Your favorite. Scottish tablet from the wee market in Wick."

"You remembered." She smiled.

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